


Like I'll Never Be The Same

by galacticjellyfish



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anxiety, Gore, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Trans Male Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 14:37:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12866598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticjellyfish/pseuds/galacticjellyfish
Summary: Throughout most all of his life, Pete knew two things to be true.1. In everyway but physical, he was a man.2. If anybody ever found out, his life would be over.





	Like I'll Never Be The Same

**Author's Note:**

> whyyyy can't i ever write good first chapters

If he held his breathe for long enough, it felt like he was floating. Only slightly above his bed, the fabric of his shirt barely scraping the sheets and then, for one second, he felt alright. For a brief second, he felt great. He felt at one with himself, but only as long as he deprived his body of something it needed to survive. Eyes closed, his body screaming that he was going to die.

 

The only thing killing him was when he took the first gulp of air.

 

Deprivation, as it turned out, was a great way to feel better indefinitely.

 

Only when he glanced at the clock and noticed he hadn’t slept in a day.

 

Only when he recounts not eating for a long amount of time.

 

Only when he got tired of his own filth during times when the only contact with the outside world was phone calls and instant messaging.

 

Only when he held his breath and closed his eyes.

 

In preparation for what would be their first show on that tour, he did just that. Not all at once, or a combination of a couple, because when you’re cooped up with three other people you consider your closest friends on a tour bus for days at a time, it’s hard to hide troublesome habits. No, his breathing was what he could control.

 

He watched for the rare opportunity where nobody was watching, even as they were just about to get on stage. He waited until he could turn his back to everyone else backstage, bass angled against his chair as if he had just put it down, to leave for a few seconds.

 

All noise disappeared. It was dark. It was quiet. He was alone.

 

He felt okay in that moment.

 

He could already feel himself.

 

A usually welcoming voice broke his trance, forcing him back to reality. Back in the chair, he felt like shit. He truly didn’t want to be here. He wanted to just fly away until the emotions left body  and all that remained was his happiness Happiness that wasn’t actually there to begin with.

 

Pete threw his head back, seeing an upside-down Patrick staring back at him, tapping his foot. He gave a grin, “Sorry Pat, what’d you say?” The blood felt nice, rushing to his head. Insta-high.

 

“I asked if you were ready, we’re on in five.” Patrick replied, colder than usual. It was all nerves th ough. Defense. Pete could tell. There was a lot of pressure on everyone tonight, but Patrick was the face of the band He more or less represented them. He’d be back to his sweet old self as soon as the show finished though. Pete was sure of it.

 

“Yeah man, I’m always ready.” It was a good lie, because really, he was never ready for anything. But as long as he had that stupid smile and played the right notes, they believed him.

 

“Good.” Patrick nodded, most likely to himself, to reassure something inside of him, “Uh, we should join the others then.”

 

“Yeah, totally.”

 

Pete grabbed his bass with one hand, struggling to walk straight while strapping his instrument to himself. Of course he could get it on, it only took bumping into five objects to do it, so really what was the big deal?

 

By the curtains, dark red, stood the other two ingredients to the band’s recipe, Joe and Andy.

 

Joe, who was probably psychic at this point, didn’t look up but still spoke directly to Pete, “About time, I thought maybe you had gotten kidnapped, princess.”

 

“Uh, bitch I’m the goddamn Queen so..” Pete got a laugh out of everyone, but his insides flipped on themselves as he spoke.

 

It was like he could feel his stomach actually eating itself and everything around it.

 

Pete was the last of the four to walk down the floor that would lead them on stage, right behind Andy, who Pete could feel nothing but jealousy towards the entire walk down.

 

While everyone was wishing them luck, their manager was making sure everything was all set and they were all okay to go on, Andy got away with not saying a word. He would give a couple smiles, some nods, and everyone was alright with that. Nobody questioned him.

 

Pete knew if he tried to do that, to just not say anything, it would be like the world ended. He knew, because he tried before, and everyone did nothing but ask if he was okay. He wished he could just stay quiet.

 

Rip out his vocal cords and never have to hear another squeaky word again.

 

Go mute forever and join Andy in the group of quiet people everyone loved.

 

He wondered if he would survive slitting his throat open and just pulling them out. He could handle the pain, he thinks. Maybe he could get pain killers and just do it, then sew his neck back together. He wouldn’t have to explain. He wouldn’t have to talk.

 

Or better yet, maybe he just wouldn’t survive.

 

Nothing wrong with that, honestly.

 

Back to Andy, Pete almost hated him out of pure jealousy. But that wasn’t true, he didn’t hate Andy. Andy didn’t mean to make him feel like shit. Nobody did, it just happened. Behind the scenes, in his head.

 

He needed to focus again.

 

He should have just suffocated himself for a few moments, ignore Patrick a little longer. Anything that would get him out of having to be there right then and there.

 

Anything.

 

The screams were deafening when he walked out, and the lights nearly blinded him and he could already see his future self biting the light tech’s head off as he stumbled to his spot. He stumbled over, trying to focus on anything but the audience yelling their names, and his band members that were effortlessly pumping out his songs while he was struggling to even remember his name over the impending panic attack that would take over as soon as the concert ended.

 

He was absolutely fucked.


End file.
